Within Eternity and Every Instant
by fuzzydream
Summary: Anna can't let go of the past for fear of the future. Possibly set in Series 3.


**Title:** Within Eternity and Every Instant

**Summary:** Anna can't let go of the past for fear of the future.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey.

**Author's note:** This probably takes place in S3 – whenever you can see it in future episodes, possibly. I'm not entirely happy with the title or the summary, but I'd appreciate it if you gave this a chance. I really hope you'll like it. Spoilers from Episode 8 and the 2011 Christmas Special.

* * *

_"I love you, finally, with great freedom_

_Within eternity and every instant"_

Piece of _Sonnet of a Total Love, _by Vinicius de Moraes

* * *

Anna awoke with a start, her eyes opening alarmingly and scanning the room around her. It was dark, and she adjusted her eyes to it, looking around her surroundings. She could feel John's breath against her ear and his arm around her waist. Without resisting, she brought her own hand to rest on his arm, wanting to feel his presence even more. He stirred, but kept sleeping. Anna looked at the small clock on the bedside table and narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what time it was. Just a quarter past two. She had only slept for an hour.

It was their first night at their own cottage – John's first night back. She had been feeling giddy in excitement and nervous and tired after everything that had happened in the day before; they arrived in Downton in mid-afternoon, and everyone seemed eager to talk to John, to wish them well, to speak with them. They barely had much time together before arriving in their cottage.

She closed her eyes, shivering ever so slightly, and leaned a bit more into John, her bare back touching his chest, and he strengthened his hold on her waist instinctively. Still asleep. He was probably having the best sleep he'd ever had since they arrested him. She should too. She truly didn't think she had a full night's sleep since their wedding night, more than a year ago.

He was here now, though. For the first time in their lives they could take their time with each other, they could touch each other freely, they could kiss, they could _feel_. Memories from their first night together and from tonight were almost mixed in her mind – there were moments, in the past months, when she wondered if it had all been a dream, if his touch had been nothing but a dream. Tonight proved her wrong, assured her that that night they shared hadn't been a dream, and now she hoped, wished, dreamt of the moments they would share would in the future only bring them happiness, like this day had.

She felt tired. God, she felt really tired. Not only physically – emotionally. It was so, so good to have him home – to finally have a home with him – but the last few weeks were so difficult, so trying. She had always tried to stay positive, and even though she never let go of the thought that he'd come back to her, she had doubts. And even though she had always tried to be strong for him, she knew she wasn't. Not all the time. She tried not to show her weaknesses to him, for she knew how it pained him to see her crying – crying because of him. Because of them.

But he was here now. The nightmare was over.

But she couldn't help but think – how do they start over? How can they wake up in the morning and go to work every day, like they did for so many years, after all that's happened? How can they let this go, when this tormented them for so many months, when there was nothing in their minds but this?

She feared they wouldn't get past this – she feared it would be too much. She had tried not to think of life after he would be free because she didn't want to get her hopes up too much. But now... Now this life was right in front of them. They were about to live it. And she pondered: would they be able to?

She opened her eyes, which were now full of unshed tears. She tried to keep positive. He was here, they'd be fine. Would they? Panic filled her. He was here, he was here...

Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't cry, not with his arms around her, not with him sleeping so peacefully beside her. She couldn't wake him with her own torments. She couldn't, and she wouldn't.

She gulped, blinking a few times, and carefully, very carefully, she managed to get herself out of his arms. John stirred, but turned to the other side, and Anna closed her eyes in relief, gathering her nightgown from the floor, where it had been hastily thrown at only a few hours ago, and putting it on. It wasn't very cold, despite it being so dark and late, and Anna left the room quietly, her bare feet taking silent steps around their little cottage. She had been working on it for some time now, ever since before John's trial, and she had wanted it to feel like a home the moment they entered the cottage, together.

She didn't look around, she barely saw their things there, their parlour, their halls, their kitchen. It was theirs, but didn't quite feel like it yet. He was home. He was home. Would it be forever, or would he leave her again? She stopped by the kitchen sink, her breath shallow. Would he leave her again? She wouldn't be able to bear if he left again. She wouldn't, she was sure of it. Were they free now? She didn't feel free. She felt trapped, trapped inside her own emotional walls. She wouldn't survive if he left her again. She wouldn't be able to live without him.

She stopped breathing. She couldn't cry. She had no reasons to cry anymore. A tear slid down her cheek silently. Other two followed. Three, four. She took a deep breath, trying to control herself, but instead she let out a loud sob. He couldn't leave her. If he did, it would be the end of her. He couldn't go back to that horrible place. She'd rather be there instead of him. She thought of everything that happened to them. It was over, wasn't it? But why didn't she feel like it was? Should she wait for other things to pull them apart? Would they ever be happy?

She clasped her hand over her mouth, knowing all too well it would be useless to try to not cry. Her vision was blurred, and she blinked, the tears falling down freely now. Would they ever be happy? She truly couldn't say. She was happy – wasn't she? He was here. He was free. She was happy. Would this happiness last? She couldn't say. She couldn't see it lasting. Would he leave her again? Would she be able to sleep with the uncertainty of the next day? Would he be there with her tomorrow?

She was tired. Tired of crying, tired of not knowing what to expect. The unexpected proved to harm her. The unexpected hurt her.

The sound of a door closing broke her out of her own thoughts. _John. _She sniffed, trying to control her tears, and managing to make them stop momentarily. She heard his quiet steps descending the stairs. John couldn't see her this way. _She was happy. _She couldn't cry. He was home. He deserved her smile, not her tears.

She had her back to the kitchen door when the steps stopped, and she froze in her spot, closing her eyes.

"Anna?" his voice was soft, so soft against her ears that she felt another tear sliding down her cheek, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she told him, still not ready to face him. She heard his steps again, and knew he was standing closer, "I just... I couldn't sleep."

"Anna."

His voice was insistent, and she turned around. He had a worried look on his face; he wasn't holding his cane, and she realised she probably scared him by not being there. He needed her. Of course he needed her. She held her breath. His hair was a bit messy – from sleep and from her own hands – and he was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and an undershirt. Her voice broke when she spoke again.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, Anna," his voice was weak too, and she took a step forward, her arms encircling his middle and she sobbed against his chest.

"John," she managed to say, "please, don't leave me. Please, don't leave me again."

His arms were around her shoulders, and she took a deep breath, finding comfort only in being in his arms, in smelling his scent, in feeling his warm body against her. Her heart sank when she heard his next words.

"You know I can't promise you that, Anna."

His voice was so full of emotion, so tender, and she understood him. He had never left her on purpose. He had never wanted to leave her, but he did. And she had never wanted to let him go, but she did. These actions had been forced upon them, and they had had no choice. They had no control now either – they could only hope for the best.

"I can promise you that I'll never leave until I absolutely must," he spoke again, "I can promise you that I'll do my best to make you happy. I'll do my best to stop making you cry."

Anna pulled away to look at him, shaking her head vehemently, tears still falling down.

"You make me happy. You make me so, so happy," she told him firmly, "I _am _happy. I've dreamt of this night ever since... ever since that day. I'm just... how can we go on, John? How can we act as if nothing-" her voice broke for a minute, but she continued speaking, "nothing happened? I can't. I can't, John. How can I sleep without knowing you'll be here with me tomorrow night again?"

He brought his hands to her cheeks, wiping her tears away.

"We'll make though this, Anna," he told her with such a conviction that she almost believed him, "We'll get past it. I won't leave you. If anything, this has only served to strengthen our love. So we... we appreciate each other even more," he told her, and Anna nodded, closing her eyes and embracing him again. She felt him kiss her hairline. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," she said quickly, in a rush, and she wasn't sure if he heard her completely with her voice muffled because of his undershirt, "Tell me we'll be fine. Tell me we'll go through this."

"I can go through anything with you by my side, Anna," he told her, "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But I have faith we'll get past this."

She nodded against his chest, her tears subsiding slowly. She took a deep breath – John was right. They would go through this together.

"I only plan on leaving you when I'm a grumpy, surly old, ancient man who complains about everything, whose time on Earth is coming to an end," he said in a lighter tone, and Anna pulled away just enough to look at him.

"Oh, John, you silly beggar," Anna shook her head, but smiling at his words. She brought her hands to rest on his chest, "Don't say these things."

He smiled back, and she thought he looked ten years younger just by doing that. They would be alright. He was home, they were together, and she knew that with time things would adjust; their lives were changed, not only by the prison, but by their marriage too, and not all changes were bad. She rested her head back on his chest and closed her eyes. They could work this out. He wouldn't leave. He was _home_.

"You gave me a scare when I woke up and you weren't there," John told her quietly, his hands gently stroking her back, "For a moment I thought you'd left me."

"I never left you when you were away, and I certainly don't plan on doing that now that you're here," she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. She played with the hem of his undershirt, right below his neck, as she spoke. She risked a smile. "You need to get used to me. I'm your wife, you know."

His smile was bright, even though his eyes were sleepy – that made him a very adorable sight. He had never looked more handsome to her. Free. Innocent to the world. Her husband, the love of her life. She could adjust to happiness. She was happy now, besides her tormentuous thoughts and fears. She had been so happy since she knew he'd be freed. Happiness suited them. If only she could trust it... It'd take a while. She was sure they would have more late night conversations in the next months; the nights were always the hardest, for both of them. They mentioned this fact several times in the past months. But they were in this together, finally, and after the last months – well, she was sure they could handle new adjustments.

They should enjoy the present, for they didn't know what the future would bring. And she couldn't waste the present crying for fear of the future. Not now - not tonight.

"I think I can sleep now," Anna told him, "Thank you."

"If you want to stay and talk, we can," he said as she pulled away from him.

"No, I can sleep now. I'm tired, and I'm sure you are too," she said quietly, approaching him once again and kissing his lips softly, "Besides, tomorrow is a busy day for us."

John frowned, "But we're not working tomorrow."

She reached for his hand, walking slowly around their home, and looked back at him with a grin.

"I know that," she said as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, lacing her fingers together at the back of his neck and punctuating every work with a kiss, "And I plan to spend it with my lovely, free, incredibly charming husband."

He smiled, his hands naturally slipping around her waist, "I'm definitely not going anywhere," he said quietly, and she knew he didn't mean only tomorrow. His smile turned into a grin, "Shall we go to bed?"

Anna pretended to think about it, his hands tickling her ever so slightly through the thin material of her nightgown. "It did take you seven long years to get me there."

He leaned down and kissed her deeply, languidly, "I have the eternity to make up for those years. I only wish I could use every instant of it to make you happy."

Anna smiled, his words making her fall in love a little more with him, if that was even possible.

Eternity sounded amazing to her ears.


End file.
